


Halloween with Ryou

by freneticat



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: A little mass-market Halloween there, A little occult here, And too much pumpkin spice for any one man, Angst, Budding Romance, Drama, M/M, Post-Canon, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-24 21:34:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4936150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freneticat/pseuds/freneticat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryou invites Tristan on an important business trip to America during the month of October and all kinds of hilarity, mass-marketed Halloween horror, and sexual tension ensue. Post-canon, Ryou and Tristan are in their mid-20s. Apologies for using the English dub names, but that's how I came to know and love these characters, so I hope you can forgive me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pumpkin Spice F*ing Everything

**Author's Note:**

> I blame my family for this. Mom and Sister's obsession with pumpkin spice f*ing everything is the target of much of my good-natured teasing, so of course I had to write about it. This will be a collection of ridiculous, trashy ship drabbles, and while I don't think there will be anything explicit, I can't make any promises. If explicit happens, I'll up the rating, but for now there's just a lot of pining and bad sexual innuendos.

“You’ve got to be joking.”

Tristan eyed the item in question that Ryou had just dropped into the shopping basket: a box of pumpkin spice flavored instant latte packets. Surrounded by the latte packets were a dozen glazed cake donuts, a box of little prepackaged cakes in the shape of ghosts, marshmallow rice treats, and spiced cider, all pumpkin spice flavored.

Ryou tilted his head slightly and gazed up at Tristan under his mop of stark white hair, puppy dog eyes cranked up to full power. “What?”

Tristan pressed his lips into a thin line, steeling himself against the assault of adorable. “We’re only going to be in New York for two days and you know we can’t take all this stuff on the plane to Florida.” He left his question— _why_ are we stocking up on so much pumpkin spice crap?—implied.

Ryou smiled, tight-lipped. “I like pumpkin spice.”

_Don’t roll your eyes_. Instead, Tristan sighed.

He’d known the influx of pumpkin spiced fucking everything was coming the second he’d agreed to go to America with Ryou for the month of October to promote his latest game. Still, he had no earthly idea just how much pumpkin spice flavored stuff Ryou could consume until he saw it for himself.

Their first stop after disembarking the plane was a Starbucks. Pumpkin spiced latte.

The next morning, Ihop. Pumpkin spice pancakes.

Dinner that night, a local café. Fucking pumpkin pie.

Day two, ten o’clock in the morning, a trip to the nearest grocery store, supposedly for just enough food to get them by until their plane to Florida the next night. Unfortunately, that wasn’t how things ended up. Every single thing they passed that had the label “pumpkin spice” printed on it somehow found its way into their cart.

Tristan didn’t even like the stuff that much. Pumpkin was, eh, _okay_ , but he failed to see the allure behind the flavor du jour after Ryou had insisted he try some of his latte. (Truth be told, he wasn’t a fan of Starbucks to begin with. Their menu wasn’t all that appealing to him.)

“It’s October 4. Keep this up and you’ll be sick of the stuff before Halloween ever arrives.” _God willing_.

“Oh, I doubt that.” Ryou smiled again, puppy dog eyes locked on their target.

Geez, had he been taking lessons from Yugi or something? His charmed little smile was almost as potent, and equally as effective.

“Okay, fine.” Tristan aimed his forefinger at Ryou. “But I’m not helping you eat any of this stuff. That’s on you.”

Ryou turned away and continued shopping. “Oh, no worries. There wouldn’t be enough for you anyway. Ooh!” Ryou dashed off down the aisle, presumably after another assorted pumpkin spice flavored thing.

Dutifully, Tristan followed Ryou around the store with their cart as Ryou hunted down everything pumpkin spice in the building. What next? Pumpkin spice peanut butter? Pickles? Noodles? Snickering at the thought of pumpkin spice noodles and the atrocity that would be, he grabbed his phone, pulled up Google, and searched for the most ridiculous pumpkin spice things he could to entertain himself.

Oreos. Butter. Chewing gum.

Beer.

Now that one he might be able to get behind.

Sugar body scrub? What even is that?

No. Nevermind. He didn’t really want to know.

Candles.

Okay, he saw that one coming a mile away.

Below the pumpkin candle picture was a random image of a business sign, so he clicked it.

_IT’S BACK! PUMPKIN SPICE RUBBER!_

He snickered as Ryou tossed the first non-pumpkin thing he’d picked up all day into the cart. Clearly, the person in charge of marketing for that tire company’s store was too clever for words.

“What’s so funny?” Ryou asked.

Tristan nodded him over. “This.”

Always a good sport, Ryou smiled and chuckled briefly. “That’s quite clever.”

“Mhm.” Tristan continued scrolling, only to freeze on the very next image. Then he burst out laughing, cackling maniacally in the middle of the store.

“Oh no.” Ryou glanced over his shoulder, then his smile vanished as his pale cheeks turned bright red, which just made Tristan laugh all the harder.

He swiped at a tear in the corner of his eye. “This has got to be a joke.” There was no way any self-respecting condom company would produce pumpkin spice condoms, no matter how socially influential the trend was.

Then again, they were in America.

“I don’t know, man," Tristan said, wagging his phone, "I don’t think we can pass this one up.”

Tristan dissolved into a fit of laughter once more as Ryou’s blush spread all over his face.


	2. Who's the Clumsy One Now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryou, baby, be careful around that dry ice.

“Tristan, stop. Just stop.” Ryou stopped tucking in his shirt, the back still half out, to help his friend fix his tie. Really, though, why he had to was beyond him. Tristan had worn ties probably more times in his life than Ryou had, yet there they were, in their hotel room preparing for another showing for more potential shareholders, Ryou retying Tristan’s tie.

At least he’d bought one, so that was progress.

Ryou put the finishing touches on Tristan’s tie, then pulled his hands away, albeit grudgingly. “All done.” Then he turned away to gather his things, purposely avoiding looking at his friend.

What the hell had he been thinking, inviting Tristan on his business trip?

Ever since he’d offered over a month ago, Tristan was all he could think about, not at all a good situation when trying to woo potential shareholders. When Ryou should have been focusing on sales pitches, marketing campaign mock-ups, and projected sales figures, he instead found himself focused on the broad expanse of Tristan’s shoulders, the way they pulled his business suit jackets snugly across them—how well they fit him overall, really—and how much he would have loved to be the one to take them off at the end of the day.

_You just wanted a friend. Someone to keep you company. To talk to._

It wasn’t like he hadn’t asked other people first, either.

Between his grandpa’s game shop, all the tournaments, and all the public appearances, Yugi was out of the question. Téa was on Broadway doing eight shows a week. Joey’s boss wouldn’t give him the time off. Duke was up to his elbows in launching the latest addition to the Dungeon Dice Monsters world.

Tristan was the only one left, his work load consisting entirely of freelance motorcycle repairs he picked up through friends or word of mouth. In the end, Ryou had to offer money to get him to go, since a whole month of no work meant no money, which mean no way to pay bills. Ryou couldn’t have that.

So he promised his friend that he would cover all of his bills, no matter how well or poorly the trip to America went.

After they loaded their things into the rental car, they sought out the Universal Studios corporate headquarters. Or, well, the one in Orlando, anyway. While Tristan pulled into the parking complex, Ryou began mentally rehearsing his sales pitch.

Maybe Tristan coming along wasn’t such a bad idea, after all. He was a lot stronger than Ryou, and Ryou’s whole stupid sales pitch idea involved a _lot_ of equipment, so at least he didn’t have to make three trips.

Oh, who was he kidding? Tristan’s companionship meant a hell of a lot more than just _I don’t have to carry all my bags._

They checked in at the front desk, took an elevator to the eleventh floor, found the board room they would be meeting in, then set to work setting up the game.

Tristan unpacked stuff, but that was where his help ended. Ryou knew the game like the back of his hand, so setting up the overly elaborate game was left to him. The idealized game setup included far too many prop pieces that all had to sit _just so_ to make sense for game play, lighting, a soundtrack of appropriate songs he’d found online and cobbled together, and a small dry ice machine to up the spook factor.

Was it too much? Probably.

Was it effective in communicating his vision? Based on the four shareholders he had secured in New York, absolutely.

He was still on cloud nine a little after the invitation to Universal Studios. Granted, he’d gotten it almost three weeks ago, but still. Universal Studios! It just didn’t get much bigger than that. And to have an attraction at their Orlando location modeled after his game… Sure, he hadn’t foreseen such commercial success for his game in Japan, but when it inevitably did come, he hadn’t been knocked on his ass so thoroughly as he had when _Universal Studios_ contacted him out of nowhere. After spending so much time working on his game, too, it felt absolutely phenomenal to have it go global, and—

“Ah!”

Ryou jerked his hand away from the dry ice as the side of his pinky finger erupted in searing pain.

“What? You okay?” Tristan asked, sitting up immediately.

Ryou slipped the side of his finger in his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut.

Damn it, that hurt!

Tristan was up, across the room, and beside Ryou in a flash. “What happened? What did you do?”

Ryou pulled his finger from between his lips, the gesture not helping in the slightest, and looked up at Tristan. “I accidentally hit the dry ice. It burns like hell.”

Tristan leapt into action. Across the board room was a mini fridge with an ice machine beside it, so Tristan grabbed a plastic cup from above the fridge, put a few ice cubes in it, filled it with water, and brought it back. “Stick your finger in here. If it burns, this’ll help.”

Ryou took the cup and did as instructed. At first, it only magnified the pain, tears threatening to make an appearance, then the pain began to ebb as his whole finger chilled.

“Wow. That really helped. How did you know to do that?”

Tristan scrubbed the hair on the back of his neck. “I used to burn myself a lot, back when I first started working on motorcycles.”

Ryou’s skin flushed hot at the slight blush coloring Tristan’s cheeks. He turned away, refocusing on his game. “Ah. Well, thank you. Nice to know I’m not the only clumsy one.”

Tristan clapped him on the back once, water almost sloshing out of the cup Ryou held. “No, you are. That was a long time ago.” Then he chuckled and dragged his hand along Ryou’s shoulders as he walked away.

Ryou tried to suppress the shivers that gesture elicited, but that proved impossible. At least Tristan had his back turned.

Sucking in a deep, steadying breath, Ryou refocused on his game. Universal Studios was a huge opportunity, and he couldn’t let his clumsiness or his crush on Tristan distract him from giving the best sales pitch possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahahahahaha I'm trash. Shipping trash. Actual, real-life shipper /trash/...


	3. Battle of the Beverages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How could a toasted graham latte ever live up to pumpkin spice?

“Again?” Tristan asked, though, really, he’d seen it coming.

Standing at the counter in yet another airport Starbucks, Ryou tilted his head ever so slightly, obviously channeling whatever assault-of-adorable lessons Yugi had given him, and peered up at Tristan. “What?”

What, indeed.

Tristan shook his head. “Nevermind. I should’ve guessed.” Of course he would get another pumpkin spice latte. At least it was early.

“And you, sir?” the barista asked.

“Uh, yeah…” Tristan scrubbed the back of his neck as he examined the menu. Why couldn’t he like their stuff? Really, was it that hard? “Uh, I’ll have the toasted graham latte I guess. Iced. Small. Er, I mean, uh…” He glanced at Ryou, begging him to supply the correct size.

Ryou snickered. “Tall.”

“Right. That.”

Tall? _Add that to the list of reasons I don’t like this place._

The barista rang up their order and Ryou paid with his business card, then the duo wandered over to an open table with their bags to wait for their drinks and their connecting flight.

Ryou pulled out his tablet, probably to check on some super important businessman stuff like emails or stock markets. Tristan sat there watching him, phone in hand but not really looking at it.

He was lucky. His business took off. Unbelievable success for someone so young, the media had said.

_This Kid is Going Somewhere!_

_Ride the Ryou Wave!_

_Gaming’s New Golden Boy!_

Then there was Tristan, stuck working out of his garage on odd jobs that got handed to him through word of mouth. It wasn’t bad at all and he did love working on bikes, but compared to his friends’ successes, he felt more than inadequate. When they were kids in school, that had been one thing. He and Joey and been their unofficial bodyguards, and with Yugi’s success and his and the pharaoh’s enemies, they had been needed.

Now, though, Yugi was off riding the success wave, just like Téa and Duke and Ryou. Hell, even Joey had a decent job. Sure, office work wasn’t really his thing, but it paid the bills and the benefits were well worth it.

He loved his friends dearly, but he wasn’t entirely sure where he fit in anymore.

In the end, that had been the deciding factor for going to America with Ryou.

He was needed.

The barista called out their order and Tristan bolted up before Ryou had time to set his tablet down. Whatever work Ryou was doing, it was too important to set aside in favor of something as mundane as getting drinks from the counter. Besides, he was Ryou’s friend. That’s what friends did.

“Here you go,” Tristan said as he sat down and slid Ryou his drink. “Your fourteenth pumpkin spice drink this month.”

“You’re counting?” Ryou asked.

“Trying to.” Tristan cocked a brow. “Though, I’ll probably lose count around twenty-five. Y’know, day after tomorrow.”

“Ha ha.” Despite his flat tone, Ryou smiled and Tristan allowed himself to fully acknowledge the warm comfort that small gesture provided.

A few minutes later, Ryou tucked his tablet back into his bag and fixed his attention on Tristan. “So, how’s your drink?”

Tristan made a face. “Better than I remember yours tasting.”

“That so?” One brow up, cocky smile on his face, Ryou brought his cup to his lips and stole a sip as if he were proving Tristan wrong somehow.

Tristan mimicked Ryou’s facial expression. “It is.” Then he snagged his straw between his lips.

Ryou’s eyes narrowed and, instead of pulling his cup away, he tipped it up again. Everything about the gesture said _My drink is better, clearly._

Once again, Tristan copied Ryou. Facial expression. Take a sip. Keep eye contact. _You’re a liar, man. My drink is superior._

Ryou couldn’t keep his ruse up for a third round. He snickered and set his cup down, then shook his head at Tristan. “Thanks again for coming. I… I really appreciate it. It’s nice to have someone to talk to.”

Tristan scoffed, then set his own drink down, too. “It’s what friends are for.”

Ryou smiled. “I mean it.”

When Tristan met Ryou’s eyes again, there was something in them that hit a nerve deep down. Somehow, Tristan _knew_ how sincere his friend was, how much his presence on the trip was appreciated. As words failed him, Tristan instead offered Ryou his sincerest smile in return.

Outside the Starbucks, the screen of flights and gates flicked to the next list, announcing the arrival of their connecting flight at gate B26.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hugs Tristan*


	4. N'awlens? Nola? The Big Easy? Whatever...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryou and Tristan go tour Saint Louis No. 1, the oldest cemetery in New Orleans, and make some rather interesting acquaintances.

Ryou sighed as Tristan put the car in park and turned off the engine. It was Sunday morning about ten minutes before ten a.m. in New Orleans, Louisiana, and they were about to embark on a guided tour of the oldest cemetery in the city.

For some odd reason, Ryou was unbelievably nervous.

After several years attached to the dark spirit of the Millennium Ring, he would have sworn nothing scared him. Hell, after what the spirit did to him time and time again, all the injuries, time spent in the hospital, and subsequent nightmares from the crimes he’d had to witness while the spirit was in control, there really wasn’t anything that _scared_ him.

Nerves, on the other hand, were only somewhat related to fear. Like a gossip-mongering cousin with too big a mouth that nobody can ever really tolerate for longer than a few minutes yet seems to constantly be present. Despite the distinctly familiar relationship Ryou had with fear, he couldn’t puzzle out the source of his nerves.

Tristan had kept unusually quiet during the drive from the hotel, too, and that had to have been at least a part of it.

Maybe he was nervous and Ryou was picking up on his nerves? They were about to go see the tomb of world-famous voodoo priestess Marie Laveau, after all. She was practically American occult royalty.

Ryou shook his head slightly as Tristan checked in with the tour guide. That wasn’t it at all. Tristan didn’t share Ryou’s sentiments toward the occult.

While they waited for the tour to start, Tristan looked at the tombs near them, and Ryou watched Tristan from the corner of his eye.

Nope. Tristan wasn’t the least bit nervous. He stood there with his hands tucked in his pockets like always, casually indifferent to the whole thing.

_What the hell is bothering me, then?_

Ryou shoved those thoughts out of his mind when the tour guide announced the beginning of the tour promptly at ten.

At first, Ryou paid rapt attention to her lecture on the origins of the New Orleans cemeteries and the reason behind their unique architecture, but when he realized he knew more about them than she did, he tuned her out in favor of reading names.

“…since New Orleans is below sea level and such a swampy area, the necessity for a cemetery that retained those interred there despite rising waters dictated the cemetery styles…”

Wrong. While there was some truth to that, the stylistic choices of the cemetery were due more to the French and Spanish influences in the seventeenth century and the lack of land available for burying the dead than water table problems.

How had Ryou let things get so cold between him and Tristan, anyway? They hadn’t even had a fight or anything. Somehow, though, yesterday Tristan just didn’t talk much, and the pattern seemed to be repeating itself.

_Did I do something?_

Sure, Tristan could be a quiet guy sometimes, but he hadn’t even teased Ryou about his daily pumpkin spice latte that morning.

Something had to be wrong.

“…world-famous chess champion Paul Morphy…”

Maybe he was just running low on jokes.

Yeah, that could be it, right?

Overhead, a large black crow with glimmering feathers hopped along the edge of one vault, its attention locked on Ryou.

He smiled.

_Hello, Marie._

The bird cocked its head, bobbed its head, then took flight and disappeared.

_Bye, Marie_.

“…some consider this cemetery to be the most haunted cemetery in the country…”

And it was.

As they wandered through the vaults and among the dead, Ryou saw glimpses—nothing more than brief flashes that anyone else might mistake for sunlight glinting off of metal—that he knew to be restless spirits.

It wasn’t so much their appearance that gave them away but the familiar energy that rolled off of them. Several years in the company of the dark spirit taught Ryou all he knew about restless spirits and the different ways they manifested themselves in the world of the living.

As they passed a row, Ryou looked down the pathway and locked eyes with the ghostly image of a young man with a handful of red roses.

_Sssssstay away from Pineaaaad_ , the spirit hissed, then he disappeared.

“…and here is the Pinead family vault…”

Ryou gave it a wide berth as they passed.

Several minutes later, the tour finally reached Marie Laveau’s tomb. It was nothing particularly large or grand, given the fact that she’d been interred in an unmarked tomb in an attempt to curb the fanaticism at the time and keep her grave site from becoming a shrine.

Of course it hadn’t worked.

Despite drastic measures and a recent restoration, rumors of X’s on the tomb and kicking and knocking still held true because—

“…and legend says if you kick the tomb three times, you’ll get your wish…”

Ryou couldn’t hold his tongue anymore. “You’re kidding, right?”

Everyone in the tour turned to look at him, including the tour guide and Tristan.

Ryou ignored both their burning stares. “What honestly makes you think that someone who practiced the dark arts in life and whose restless spirit is known to assault tourists is going to grant wishes to people who deface her tomb?”

He’d said it quietly and sincerely enough, but there was an edge of malice to his voice that he couldn’t control.

What would Tristan think of him for speaking out like that? They’d paid good money for the tour, and there he was mouthing off to—

“Yeah,” Tristan said, “my friend has a point.”

Ryou’s head snapped around to stare up at Tristan, all previous attempts at flirting completely forgotten.

_He finally said something. And he took my side._

Before anyone, especially Tristan, noticed, Ryou returned his attention to the tour guide and his fellow tourists. “It stands to reason, really.” Then he pointed at the crow he’d seen earlier, the crow which now sat on a tomb a few feet away, eyes locked on Ryou. “Especially when she’s following us.”

Hesitantly, the tour guide glanced where Ryou pointed, and when she noticed the large black bird with glimmering feathers, she jerked her gaze away, her cheeks filling with color.

“I, uh, I suppose you’re right,” she finally said. Then, slowly, she got back to her tour spiel and three tombs later seemed to have completely forgotten her previous transgression.

After their tour and safely back in their car, nerves finally ebbing, Ryou turned to Tristan. “Thank you for having my back.”

“Uh, yeah.” Tristan smiled, though it didn’t touch his eyes. “Anything for a friend.” Then his cheeks turned the softest shade of pink and he cranked the car’s ignition.

Before they left, Ryou noticed the same black crow with glimmering feathers sitting on the fence surrounding the cemetery.

_You know,_ a womanly voice said inside his head, _I just might grant a wish for_ you _, boy._

Ryou smiled at the crow. _I appreciate the offer, Miss Laveau, but I don’t know if my wish is grant-able._

_Don’t be silly._ The crow shook its head. _I can do anything. What do you wish for?_

In answer, Ryou glanced at Tristan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I tried something a little different with this one. I tried to keep Ryou in character, but also play on those "omg I like this person and I think I did something wrong because now things are weird between us and I'm feeling hella angsty about it" pre-relationship, crush-type feelings, which is where his mystery nerves come from. I have no idea if I pulled it off or not. Also, I edited this really late at night so apologies if there are errors.


	5. Late Night

Remote in hand, Tristan flopped onto the couch beside Ryou. While his friend studiously prepared for the next day’s meetings, Tristan intended to find the most mind-numbing movie he could and watch it.

The point, of course, being to “watch” said movie as a cover for what he was really doing: figuring out what the fuck happened in New Orleans.

It started on Saturday. That morning, instead of his usual feelings of irritation at Ryou’s insistence on a Starbucks pumpkin spice latte, his feelings of fondness toward his friend’s routine shocked him.

Fondness? For a man who consumes more pumpkin spice in a day than most people do in entire holiday seasons?

Then later on, while they strolled through what had to be the sketchiest part of New Orleans, Tristan made sure he knew exactly where Ryou was every single second. It wasn’t like how he normally was with his friends, either. There was something urgent about it, something that screamed out every time Ryou took a step too far away from him. Especially in that creepy voodoo shop. Seriously, what nut puts up signs that say “Don’t take pictures or you’ll be cursed”? That’s practically _begging_ for people to take pictures!

The next day was even weirder. Before ordering his usual pumpkin spice latte, Ryou had asked Tristan about the other holiday drinks and said he considered getting one of them.

Like an idiot, Tristan had just shrugged, said they all tasted okay, and ordered another random thing.

At least the trip to the cemetery seemed to cheer him up.

Then, the morning of their flight to Philadelphia, Ryou ordered one of every pumpkin-flavored treat on the Starbucks menu to go along with his latte.

Fucking pumpkin spice.

Really, though, Ryou’s obsession with pumpkin spice wasn’t _that_ bad.

Not at all.

Could be worse.

Could be like Kaiba and his blue eyes.

Oh hell.

Tristan considered counting his blessings that Ryou’s pumpkin obsession was _nothing_ like Kaiba’s blue eyes obsesson.

Last time he checked, Ryou didn’t have a pumpkin-shaped jet or anything.

Seriously, Kaiba was a weirdo.

Ryou was, too, but in his own ways. Ways that didn’t make Tristan want to punch him.

Like his thing for the occult. Not entirely unfounded considering the things he’d been through. (Given everything Tristan had seen in the few years the pharaoh had taken up residence with Yugi, he wasn’t exactly a non-believer, either.)

And he was a pretty damn good cook.

And creative. Creative as hell! The sheer amount of work that must’ve gone into his game boggled Tristan’s mind. And then he had the wherewithal to come up with a sales pitch for his game that included him making an ideal three-dimensional board with _fucking dry ice_ and actual varying levels and so much stuff Tristan couldn’t keep up with it all.

No. None of those things were really weird, exactly. Just uniquely Ryou. They were all the things that made Ryou who he was.

Ryou suddenly snapped his head up and made a noise somewhere between a snort, a gasp, and a cough.

“Falling asleep there, man?” Tristan asked.

“Mm. Yeah.”

“Go to bed, then.”

Ryou shook his head, his eyelids fluttering as he fought off his exhaustion. “Mm mm. Can’t. Too much to do.” He flipped his finger across his tablet screen and continued reading.

Probably stocks or something.

Outside the window, a black bird with glimmering feathers landed on the ledge.

That bird looked like the same one Ryou insisted was the spirit of that voodoo woman. Marie? Was that her name?

Tristan shook his head. _What the hell, man? A bird?_

They couldn’t be the same birds. Not even close. They were in Philadelphia, for god’s sake. The bird never could have made that flight in such a short amount of time.

_I guess I’m a lot more tired than I thought I was._

Tristan checked the clock on his phone—10:45pm—and resolved to go to bed after the movie ended at 11.

When the credits finally began to roll at 10:58, his eyelids drooped and his head rested heavily on the back of the couch. Beside him, Ryou had fallen asleep with his tablet in his lap. He snored quietly, sounding more like a purring kitten than a snoring man.

Tristan shut off the TV, set the remote aside, and changed into an old T-shirt and a pair of sweat pants. Then he considered his friend.

Waking Ryou up crossed his mind briefly enough to be immediately vetoed. Ryou had been working entirely too hard and he needed his rest. Instead, Tristan locked Ryou’s tablet, set it aside, and scooped him up in his arms.

Ryou weighed all of nothing, just like back in Duelist Kingdom. His head lolled against Tristan’s shoulder and one arm hung limp at his side. Halfway to his bed, Ryou sighed in his sleep.

Tristan smiled.

_Get your rest, man. You’ve earned it._

He set Ryou down carefully, then he pulled the covers up to Ryou’s shoulders, just like how they always were when they woke up. Ryou shifted to his side, curled up into a ball, and tugged the covers up under his chin.

“G’night, man.”

Curled up in his own bed, sleep creeping slowly into his mind, the last thing Tristan thought of that night was of how cute Ryou looked when he slept. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take my advice, folks: If you ever go to Nola/New Orleans/The Big Easy/whatever the fuck it's called and you go to a voodoo shop that has signs like that up, DON'T FUCKING TAKE PICTURES. IT WON'T END WELL.
> 
> *cough cough* Not that I'm speaking from personal experience or anything...


End file.
